


counting on my relevant friends

by swearwollf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bad Decisions, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Rough Sex, Tim is kinda sleazy sorry, the rhack is ostensibly one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swearwollf/pseuds/swearwollf
Summary: From a kink meme prompt: Something in which Tim pretends to be Jack so he can have sex with Rhys. Maybe Rhys is Jack's boyfriend, maybe he's just a fan boy.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	counting on my relevant friends

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to ghost for the quick looking-over. hopefully this exorcised my writer's block so i can get back to writing bite
> 
> title is from inaction by we are scientists
> 
> the kink meme can be found here: https://orechasm.dreamwidth.org/452.html

Tim never thought of himself as a bad person before he got this job, but he finds the concept has kind of grown on him. He spent so long being shit on by life, no money, no looks, no boyfriend, and absolutely no one taking him seriously, but Jack’s face changed all that. Suddenly, everyone is treating him with the same respect (and fear) they offer to the infamous CEO of Hyperion, and  _ boy _ is it exhilarating. 

Still no boyfriend, though.

He’s resigned himself to picking up hot guys in bars (gotta keep Jack’s reputation as a playboy up somehow, and Tim is perfectly happy to take this assignment since the real Jack actually spends all his time working) when he meets Rhys. Rhys is gorgeous, all long legs with a pretty face,  _ and _ he’s actually a really cool guy. Funny in a sly kinda way. Tim has a bit of a crush.

Rhys is also, unfortunately, Jack’s PA. Which means he knows about Tim and seems to like him as his own person, but it also means he knows Jack. And from the way he looks at Jack, Rhys also has capital-F  _ Feelings _ for him.

Tim is a smart guy, despite what people might think given his choice to enter the Doppleganger program, he knows Jack is the original and Tim’s own charisma is just a cheap imitation. It’s glaringly obvious when they’re in the same room together. Of course Rhys would want the real thing.

But, dammit, Tim wants  _ Rhys _ . Wants Rhys to notice him over everyone else, even Jack. Nothing he has is his own anymore, and for the first time in years Tim hates it.

So maybe that’s why when Tim sees Rhys in the club, he makes a move. 

Well, first he watches. Rhys seems to be here with some friends, a short guy with a goatee and a stylish woman with dreads. They’re all packed into a booth, drinking and laughing and generally seeming to have a good time. Rhys is beautiful when he laughs, eyes bright and smile genuine for these two people Tim doesn’t know. Yet another thing Rhys is giving away that Tim wants for himself. They seem content to stay in their booth and get progressively louder until the club gets so busy and their drinks get so empty that Rhys, the one who seems steadiest on their feet of the three, stands and starts making his way towards the bar. 

Seeing his chance, Tim stands as well and plots a course to intercept Rhys in the middle of the dance floor. It’s easy to sneak up on him there amidst the press of bodies, and when he gets close enough Tim snags the man by the wrist and pulls him in. 

Rhys stiffens in his grasp as he whirls to face him, expression creased in irritation until he sees just who Tim is. The hand he raised ostensibly to slap whoever accosted him instead lands gentle as a dove on Tim’s shoulder.

Cheeks flushed with alcohol and eyes dazed, Rhys looks up at Tim and asks a little breathlessly, “Hey, what’re you doin’ here?” 

Tim grins rakishly at him, which causes Rhys’s flush to deepen delightfully. “C’mon, kitten,” Tim cajoles instead of answering. Rhys is drunk enough he hopefully won’t even notice the evasion. “Let’s dance.”

Rhys looks back over his shoulder at his friends, the shorter of which is now slumping over the table while the woman talks to a cute girl Tim had observed lingering near their table earlier. He bites his lip deliciously in thought as he looks back at Tim before grinning lopsidedly in agreement. Tim draws Rhys immediately into his arms and away from his friends’ eyes, further onto the dance floor where all the moving bodies will obscure them. 

He’s counting on the alcohol and their close proximity to get Rhys’s blood pumping, and he is not disappointed. Tim loses track of how long they dance together. Rhys has a graceless but completely shameless style that is somehow both endearing and also extremely sexy. It helps that he lets Tim grind against his ass in front of all these strangers, too. It feels like staking a claim.

After what feels like hours but couldn’t be more than one, Rhys turns around in Tim’s arms and kisses him. It’s inelegant but allconsuming, Rhys grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down, a current electrifying Tim until he can’t pull away. 

So it’s Rhys that pulls away first, just far enough to look Tim in the eye, his own eyes glassy with arousal. Rhys has to shout to be heard over the music, but it might as well be a whisper for how intimate it feels. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yeah, baby.” This time it's Tim’s turn to be a little breathless. 

With that, he drags Rhys out the door and to a cab. Rhys bumps against him, laughing that open laugh from before but this time for Tim as he crowds the other man into the automated vehicle. Tim punches in his address, thinking about the breakfast he’ll make for Rhys in the morning. He’s looking forward to the sex, of course, but also to seeing what Rhys looks like with wrinkles from a pillowcase mashed into his face right after waking up. 

They make out like teenagers the whole way there, hands hot and heavy and sliding up under each other’s shirts. Rhys is ticklish on his ribs, and squirms and giggles when Tim touches him in the right spot. 

When the cab stops they all but run for the elevator. Tim’s apartment is nice, nicer than he really knows what to do with, but it has a huge bed and that will come in handy tonight. As soon as the door closes he pins Rhys against it and kisses him breathless, until he’s whining and jerking at Tim’s jacket to make him take it off. From there it’s a clumsy dash to the bedroom, both of them shedding their clothes behind them on the floor as they go. 

Rhys apparently wears Hyperion brand boxer-briefs, which is kind of ridiculous but so on brand for Rhys himself Tim can’t help but laugh. He picks Rhys up by the waist and tosses him effortlessly onto the bed before shucking them off down his long, long legs. The display of strength must do something for Rhys, because he looks up at Tim with huge, lust-blown eyes and honest-to-god moans. 

“You like that, kitten?” Tim asks as he discards his own underwear and climbs up Rhys’s body. 

“Fuck-“ Rhys gasps as their groins align and he grinds up against Tim wantonly. “ _ Yeah _ .”

Tim has been thinking about this for a long time. He kisses Rhys into the bed while he reaches into the nightstand for the bottle of lube. Rhys moans into his mouth, hands mapping the plane of Tim’s back as he writhes under him. God, he’s so fucking hot. If he doesn’t slow Rhys down Tim will come before they even get started. 

“Ah-tut-tut,” he scolds, catching Rhys’s wrists and pinning them to the bed, “hands off. Can you be a good boy for me, Rhys, and keep these here?”

Rhys looks up at him like he’s been sucker punched, but he doesn’t move. “Yes, I can. I can, I promise, please-“ he begs, before breaking off on something like a sob. 

“Good boy,” Tim praises, before biting a hickey onto Rhys’s bared throat. The other man jumps as if electrocuted before forcing himself still, sobbing again. As a reward, Tim kisses the bruise, then kisses down his sternum and across his belly, studiously ignoring Rhys’s straining dick, until he’s cradled between Rhys’s thighs. 

“I’m gonna open you up, alright Rhys? Hold still for me.”

Rhys is sobbing more promises to be good, but Tim is already slicking up his fingers and sliding one inside. Rhys is  _ hot _ , inside. Hot and tight. He thrusts in a few times and Rhys gives easily, so Tim gives him a second finger as well. When he glances up Rhys’s body, he sees Rhys’s arms are still above his head. He seems to be trying to muffle his noises in his flesh arm, but he didn’t move it to hide his face so Tim thinks he deserves a reward. 

Tim didn’t get a whole lot of action in college but people tended not to be too picky with who gave them blowjobs, which meant Tim had gotten pretty damn good at them. He puts his ill gotten skills to use now and swallows Rhys down to the hilt. Rhys shouts above, straining in place but still not moving his arms. They make eye contact across Rhys’s twitching belly as Tim finds his prostate and gives it a good rub. Rhys whines helplessly. 

While swallowing Rhys down again, Tim adds a third finger.

“Ah, shit.” Rhys stutters. “I’m gonna come. Please, Ja- Just-“ 

Tim pulls off and out of him, smirking as he watches Rhys twitch and sob as he comes down from near orgasm. Rhys takes a moment to catch his breath, then shoots Tim a heated glare. It’s adorable, especially since his arms are obediently still above his head. “Just fuck me, already,” he snipes. 

Tim is happy to oblige. Although he thinks it would be nice to have Rhys’s long legs up over his shoulders, he has something else in mind. He’s been fantasizing for a while now about Rhys on his knees. Tim sits up on his knees and manhandles Rhys until he’s flipped over with his ass in the air. Rhys’s back arches gracefully before Tim, smooth and creamy white except where his tattoos curl around his shoulder and ribs. Tim grabs the globes of his ass and pulls them apart so he can spy Rhys’s pink hole, wet and ready for him. 

“Hurry  _ up,”  _ Rhys demands. 

Tim doesn’t dally any further. With a little more lube added to his dick, he slowly eases into Rhys. The man under him lets out a full body groan and pushes back, urging him to go faster. Within moments, Tim is fully seated. 

Placing a palm between Rhys’s shoulder blades, Tim pushes Rhys’s upper body down until it meets the bed. Rhys goes easily, pliant despite his demands that Tim  _ fuck him already.  _ His back makes a perfect swoop and Tim can’t help but drag his palm up it before returning his hand to Rhys’s hip. 

His restraint has been admirable, Tim thinks, but it’s time to take what he wants. With that thought, he starts thrusting. Rhys lets out a wail beneath him but doesn’t move from the position Tim put him in. Tim wants to call him a good boy again, but he doesn’t have the brain power now to make words, all the blood normally reserved for his brain taking up residence in his dick.

Rhys claws at the bedding near his head and yowls like a cat in heat when Tim picks up the pace and gets the angle right. He’s bucking his hips back to meet Tim’s, and honestly Tim is in heaven. Rhys is so tight and warm around him, the noises he’s making coupled with the noises his dick makes in Rhys’s ass are a symphony to his ears, beckoning him ever closer to orgasm. Tim is close, so close, and Rhys is begging-

“Jack, Jack please!” Rhys is begging, begging for Jack. Not for Tim.

Abruptly, Tim realizes he forgot he tricked Rhys into this. He wove a pleasant fiction around himself that Rhys was here for him, that they would wake up in the morning and talk about dating maybe. That Rhys could be his.

But Rhys has only ever belonged to Jack.

Tim is furious. With himself, of course, but with Rhys too. It’s easier to blame this on Rhys, Tim is a good guy, not a homicidal maniac, he would treat Rhys better than Jack is even capable of. Yes, if Rhys could just see that Jack was not good for him, surely he’d pick Tim.

He makes himself stop thinking. Instead, Tim channels his anger into Rhys. The hands on Rhys’s hips become bruising in the force of their grip as he hammers into Rhys like he’s a recalcitrant nail. He lets go of Rhys with one hand and leans over him, using his now free hand to scruff Rhys and push him into the bed forcefully, trying to make him  _ stop saying Jack’s name _ . 

Rhys doesn’t stop, he keeps begging for Jack, over and over. Tim slams his hips into Rhys until he falls over, and as Rhys crumples beneath him Tim keeps fucking him. Hard, mean. The way Jack would, since Rhys wants it so much.

Crushing Rhys’s body to the bed, fucking him as hard as he can, Tim bites down on Rhys’s shoulder. He tastes blood and isn’t sure if it's Rhys’s or his own. It must be too much for Rhys, because Tim feels him go rigid underneath him before coming with a shout. His orgasm makes him almost seize up, and suddenly he’s that much tighter around Tim’s dick and Tim is coming too with a groan. He rides it out, thrusting slowly into Rhys’s pliant body before rolling away, disgusted with himself. They lie like that for several long moments, the only sound in the room just two men trying to catch their breath.

Finally, Rhys rolls onto his back and pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He looks amazing, his hair wild and his lips bitten to redness. He glances at Tim sardonically. “Fuck. I should have made you wear a condom,” he laughs.

“Get out,” Tim hisses.

Rhys quirks a brow at him, smirking meanly. He’s still devastatingly attractive. “What, didn’t get what you wanted?”

Tim thanks god the Doppelganger operation handled his little angry-crying problem. “ _ Get out.” _

Rolling out of bed with a wince, Rhys shakes his head at Tim. “You two are a lot alike, you know? That’s why you’re his favorite double, I think. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him about this.”

Aggrieved, Tim sits up to watch Rhys dress. Come is dripping a slow trail down his thigh and Rhys uses Tim’s abandoned shirt to wipe it away before dropping it carelessly back onto the floor and pulling his boxer-brief on with a grimace. He dresses with an almost ruthless efficiency. “If we’re so similar, why him? Why not me?”

Rhys pauses a moment in buttoning his pants to look at Tim thoughtfully before he answers. “Well,” he says, “for one, Jack would never fuck me under false pretenses.”

“Yeah?” Tim asks, going for sarcastic but mostly sounding broken hearted.

The look Rhys gives him is almost pitying. “Yeah, Tim. He respects me too much to do that. Listen, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings but I think we both needed this, to work some things out. And I don’t think I’m the person you think I am. Did you think I needed saving from Jack?”

“No,” Tim lies.

“Okay,” Rhys replies, taking pity on him. “Well, I’ll see you around Tim.”

Tim stays sitting in bed, listening to Rhys fetch the rest of his clothes and dress in the living room. It isn’t long before he hears the front door open, then close again as Rhys leaves. After a while, Tim gives up on sitting and curls around a pillow. The bed is disgusting but he’s too tired to change the bedding. He doesn’t cry, even though he thinks he wants to. He feels wrung out.

Eventually, he falls asleep. Tomorrow he’s going to ask for a mission off station, but for now he has to live with his poor choices.


End file.
